Letter 123: An appeal to the widow Ageruchia, highborn lady of Gaul, not to marry again. It should be compared with the letters to Furia (LIV.) and to Salvina (LXXIX.) The allusion to Stilicho's treaty with Alaric fixes the date to 409 A.D. 1.

JeromeAgeruchia|c. 411 AD|jerome
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Barbarian peoples/invasions; Theological controversy; Imperial politics

Jerome to the noble Ageruchia of Gaul — greetings.

I must find a fresh path on a well-worn road. The subject of widows and remarriage is one I have addressed before — to Furia, to Salvina, and to others. I am aware that it is beginning to resemble a specialty. But the topic recurs because the need recurs, and a doctor who prescribes the same medicine for the same disease is not being repetitive; he is being accurate.

Your family is itself an argument against remarriage. Your grandmother Metronia has been a widow for forty years — a living Anna (Luke 2:36–37). Your mother Benigna has held to her widowhood for fourteen years now, surrounded by consecrated virgins whose chastity bears fruit a hundredfold. Your aunt — your father Celerinus's sister — has been raising you since you were placed in her lap as an infant, teaching you by her own example the lessons she learned from her mother. In embracing widowhood, you are not making a brave individual choice against the grain of your family. You are fulfilling what your family has been preparing you for across three generations.

Some will raise objections. They always do. The first: you are young and should not foreclose your options. My response is that you are not foreclosing an option; you are choosing one. The second: you have no children and will need an heir. My response is that you have a posthumous son, named after his father, who is perfectly capable of inheriting your estate without requiring you to acquire a second husband. The third, and most honest: you are lonely and the solace of a companion is a legitimate human need. My response to this is that I acknowledge it, and that the solution is not a second husband but a community — the community of consecrated women your family has been building for two generations.

I should also say something about the world outside your window, since I assume you have been watching the news. The Goths have sacked Rome. The empire is coming apart at the seams. A man named Alaric, leading an army of people we used to treat as barbarians fit only for the frontier, has walked through the gates of the Eternal City and helped himself to whatever he found. I do not raise this to terrify you; I raise it because it is relevant to the question of what you should attach your hopes to. Rome has fallen. Things built of stone, guarded by soldiers, funded by taxes — these things turn out not to be permanent. You already knew, as a Christian, that you were not supposed to set your hope on them. This is simply the historical illustration arriving, somewhat dramatically, to confirm the text.

In that light: the question is not "why would a young widow refrain from remarriage?" The question is "what, in the present circumstances, is actually worth building a life around?" I suggest the answer is not a second Roman husband.

Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.

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